


in the moment (we were lost and found)

by smallbeans



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Thomas, M/M, The Death Cure Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 03:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbeans/pseuds/smallbeans
Summary: He wants to give up. He wants to close his eyes and never open them again.But he can’t give up, because Thomas is still out there, sacrificing himself yet again.Thomas came back for him, and now he needs to go back for Thomas.(Minho's POV in the last part of The Death Cure)





	in the moment (we were lost and found)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been waiting for someone to write this, and no one has yet so I wrote it instead. It's rubbish and rushed because I wrote it on the bus on the way to college, but I needed to just get this down and off my chest. If you can't tell, I am a sucker for hurt!thomas.
> 
> **title: wings by birdy**

********Minho’s pretty sure the only thing keeping him going now is adrenaline. His time at WCKD feels like it was a lifetime ago, when really he’s only been out for barely a few hours. Minho can feel himself lagging. His emotional capacity is straining. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can do. He’s _tired_.

Newt’s body flashes behind his eyes. He forces himself to open his eyes, to look around the Berg. It sways and jerks as Jorge turns it, driving it above the burning city below. Chaos rages outside the metal walls, a world far scarier than when it just roamed with cranks.

For a moment, Minho finds himself missing the Glade. He remembers when Frypan said it all those months ago, when they first made it into the scorch. He remembers the look on Thomas’ face, his expression illuminated by the flickering fire light.

He wants to give up. He wants to close his eyes and never open them again.

But he can’t give up, because Thomas is still out there, sacrificing himself yet again. He’s trapped in the hands of the real threat in the world, reeled in by the threats and theories of Teresa and the Cure.

Thomas came back for him, and now he needs to go back for Thomas.

The city below them is in ruins. Fires burn relentlessly, buildings crumbling like houses of cards. Minho wonders if they ever can really escape this.

"There’s the building!" Gally shouts. He’s up front with Jorge, and the moment the sound of his shout reaches the back of the Berg, they’re all rushing forward.

Orange surrounds them in flickering, licking flames, but Minho sees through it. The Berg is pointing towards the top of the WCKD building, it’s shining headlights revealing a dot in the centre of the burning building. He makes out two people, curled into each other, one practically laying in the others lap. They turn their heads, looking towards the Berg.

"That’s them!" Brenda cries, and Minho feels something in his chest tighten.

They run to the back of the Berg, and it opens like an envelope, Teresa and Thomas appearing at the lip. They’re stumbling towards them, arms around each other.

Minho reaches, dropping down to his knees, extending a hand. Thomas and Teresa get closer, holding each other up. Jorge shouts that he can’t get closer, and the gap between their reaching fingers too large. Minho feels himself losing his temper. Thomas is so close, yet so far.

Their hands link, their fingers touch and Minho feels everything come rushing back.

And then, Thomas is gone, their hands ripped apart. The Berg sways forward, unsteady in Jorge’s control.

Thomas keeps falling, almost all of his weight is leaning against Teresa when she drags him back to his feet. His head is hanging like it’s too heavy on his neck, and in the glow from the raging fires, Minho can see his washed out complexion. 

Something is wrong, Minho can’t help but think.

And Minho is right.

Minho doesn’t know if Thomas jumps or Teresa pushes him, but somehow, Thomas is on the lip of the Berg and Minho is scrambling to pull him up. He can feel the tremors shaking through Thomas’ body as they heave him into the Berg, but Minho doesn’t think about it now. They all look out, hands outstretched to Teresa. Minho sees her look at Thomas, a smile on her face.

"I’m sorry," he sees her whisper, and then the floor beneath her is gone.

Minho’s pretty sure everything that happens are after that happens in slow motion. Teresa is swallowed up by the disappearing building, gone in the darkness. She’s looking up at them as she falls, face white against the ashes. Thomas screams her name, cracking like something inside him breaks. Minho hates Teresa, but he knows her and Thomas have more history than just the Maze trials. He knows something else is there, something rooted and raw. Thomas is staring emptily where Teresa fell when the Berg begins to pull away. They roll him onto his back, and Minho feels his breath get lodged in his throat.

Thomas is covered in blood, and when they lift his shirt, he has a hole in his stomach.

He’s been shot.

Thomas has been shot.

Minho can’t breath. He can’t breath. There’s so much blood, his hands are soaked.

It’s the adrenaline that keeps him going. His world is collapsing around him, but he still clamps his hands down onto Thomas’ stomach. He feels the teen under him tense.

Everyone is shouting. Brenda is panicking, Gally is yelling, and Vince is speaking to Thomas, telling him to stay awake, and Minho can’t do anything but stare. He stares at Thomas, at his bloodless skin, his sunken eyes and the sweat dotting his forehead like glistening jewels. He

He feels a tear roll down his cheek, but he’s scared if he takes his hands away to wipe it, Thomas will bleed out. Thomas _is_ bleeding out.

Something nudges his side, and all sound comes rushing back to him.

"Minho, move your hands."

He looks up. Gally is beside him, his face so close.

Minho can’t move.

"Minho, you need to move your hands," Gally repeats. He sounds angry, frustrated. Minho didn’t know Gally cared enough.

"I can’t—" he chokes out, his voice rasping.

"Minho, I need to put something on the wound. Move your damn hands!" Gally shouts, and it’s like a trigger is pulled. Minho snaps, retching his hands away from Thomas’ abdomen like he’s been burned. Gally was lightly pushed him to the side, taking his stop by Thomas legs and pressing a cloth over the wound. Minho feels like he’s floating. He’s watching everything move around him.

He crawls to Thomas’ head, where Vince is running his fingers through Thomas’ hair and muttering words Minho is too far away to hear.

Minho wants to be surprised at the touches of affection Vince is giving, at the expression on his face. He looks like a father looking down at his dying son. But Minho isn’t surprised. Thomas has spent the last six months with Vince, and as far as Minho has been caught up, Thomas and Vince have grown a father-son bond. It’s no surprise either - Thomas grows on people. His heroic and kind heart softens even the toughest of people.

Thomas is staring at the Berg ceiling above them, but as soon as Minho is closer, his head lolls to the side. Their eyes meet, and Minho is clasping Thomas’ hand before he’s really thinking about it. His hand is cold and clammy, slick with blood. A single tear escapes Thomas’ eye, rolling down the dip of his temple.

"You’re gonna be okay," Minho whispers, because Thomas is always okay. Thomas _has_ to be okay. After everything they’ve been through, after every torment and battle Thomas has survived, he can’t die like this.

Minho squeezes his hand, and the bloody fingers curl around his, squeezing back. Minho chokes out a mix between a sob and a laugh, “you’re gonna be okay, shank. You hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”

Thomas just stares back at him. He looks so worn down, so tired. He looks as bad as Minho feels.

He gives his hand one more squeeze, and then his eyes are rolling back, and those ridiculously long eyelashes are fluttering.

Minho feels his heart drop like a stone. “No,” he chokes. “No. No, Thomas! Thomas, wake up!”

He’s got his hands fisted in Thomas’ shirt, shaking him. He screams at Thomas to wake up, to open his eyes.

Thomas doesn’t open his eyes.

 

They get back to where The Right Arm have been camping for six months. An abandoned shipping dock, crumbling and in ruins, like the rest of the world. Minho barely has time to take it all in before Vince is shoving them all on a huge cargo ship.

Thomas is taken below deck, doctors and medics having a field trip trying to keep him alive. It’s touch and go for a long time,and they keep telling Minho he’s not out of the woods yet. But Thomas is tough, Minho reminds himself, when he sits beside the makeshift bed, hand clasped in Thomas’ lax one. Thomas is tough as old boots, and he won’t leave Minho now.

He’s tougher than anyone Minho knows, or has ever known. He has to be alright.

 

Thomas is out for four days. He’s wracked with shivers, sweating and feverish. The medics walk around him with frowns, muttering words to each other. Minho gets frustrated, and just when he’s about to snap, they tell him Thomas is on the mend.

Minho spends the entire time beside him, holding his hand and stroking his sweaty bangs out of his face. Thomas mumbles in his sleep, his eyelids twitching as his eyes race and roll under them. He whimpers, tosses and turns, jerking like he’s trapped in a nightmare. Minho does his best to comfort his friend, to soften the horrors he’s seeing behind his closed eyelids. He doesn’t know if it helps, but on the times that Thomas stops whimpering, he counts that as a win.

 

Thomas seems to have grown on everyone since Minho was taken. The six months of fighting together to get Minho and the others out have brought everyone together. Minho is surprised at the amount of people who worry for Thomas, who come in to see how he is when he’s still passed out. But then, he realises he shouldn’t be surprised.

 

Minho doesn’t know if he can forgive himself for letting Thomas wake up alone. He’d only been out of the make-shift shack for twenty minutes, after being physically dragged out by Brenda and Gally. Minho had spent four straight days by Thomas’ side, and the one time he isn’t there, the shank decides to wake up.

Minho feels his lungs constrict when he see’s Thomas up, walking down the path through the Safe Haven camp. He’s looking around, and in the shining sunlight, he looks more washed out than he did in the shack, but at least he’s up and walking. At least he’s alive.

Thomas is a few feet away when Minho stands up, Gally and Frypan following in suit. Brenda and Jorge are coming up the hill, having must have seen Thomas wandering around.

Thomas see’s Minho first, and freezes in his steps. His eyes are huge and round, sunken underneath. Now Minho is finally looking at him without the daunting black cloud of death hanging over them, he realises Thomas has lost weight.

"Minho. . ." Thomas whispers, voice cracking from disuse.

Minho can’t stand it anymore. Thomas looks like he’s going to cry, going to crumble where he stands. They’re finally safe, and Thomas still looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. Minho marches forward and pulls Thomas into a hug before he can talk himself out of it, and when Thomas hugs back, Minho feels a hole inside him fill shut.

When they pull back, and Thomas has hugged everyone else, he looks to Minho.

"Where. . . ?"

"Vince brought us here," Minho says, trying _not_ to sound like he wants to burst into tears. "Welcome to the Safe Haven, shank."

Thomas nods, still looking around. He has a lost, sad look in his eyes that Minho guesses he should have expected. Thomas had passed out to Teresa dying and a bullet wound in his side. He probably didn’t think he’d ever wake up.

"How are you feeling?" Vince asks, his hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

Thomas nods wearily, "Like I got shot in the stomach."

Everyone laughs, but Minho detects the empty humour like a knife through a metal detector.

"Glad you’re okay, Hermano," Jorge says, and Minho see’s Brenda send Thomas a warm smile and a wink.

Thomas smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Minho wants to hug him again, but he also wants to punch him for making him think he was going to die.

Minho doesn’t notice when everyone else around him leaves. He’s too busy staring at Thomas, taking in every inch of him.

"I can’t believe you’re alive," he mutters.

Thomas looks at him, and then looks down at his clothed and bandaged torso. "Neither can I."

A few minutes later, they’re both sitting down on the bench Minho was working at.

"Are you okay?" Minho asks, and when Thomas opens his mouth, he quickly adds, "How are you _really?_ And I don’t mean the gunshot wound."

Minho regrets asking when he sees the remaining colour wash out of the younger teens complexion. Thomas closes his eyes, hanging his head. He swallows, visibly over a lump in his throat.

Thomas rubs his hands over his face, sighing loudly, "I don’t know. I don’t know how I am."

Minho huffs a dry laugh, "Join the club."

"Worst club ever."

"Shuck, stop making jokes," Minho says. "I didn’t know you knew how to make jokes."

"I can make jokes," Thomas mumbles. He’s wringing his hands together, blinking rapidly like he’s tired. "I’m hilariously funny."

"I beg to differ, shank. You’re the least hilarious person I know."

"I’ve been saving my jokes."

Minho laughs, really laughs. It bursts out of him like a hiccup.

"Come on, shank," Minho says, getting up. "Let’s get you back to bed before you pass out on my bench."

Thomas is as white as a sheet by the time Minho manages to push him back on to the bed. Minho feels the worry crawling back through him again, like a bitter taste at the back of his throat.

"Are you okay?" He finds himself asking. It comes out on instinct, even though he asked Thomas not ten minutes ago.

"I’m sorry."

Minho turns to look at Thomas, who has his face hidden behind his hands.

The teen frowns, crouching down by Thomas’ head, "For what?"

"Everything," Thomas whispers so quietly Minho barely hears it. "I’m sorry for everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Thomas."

His hands slip away, revealing his tear-filled eyes. He curls onto his side, wincing as he does, legs pulled up to his chest and arms tucked under his chin.

Minho has hold of his hand when he sobs, stroking his thumb over the bony knuckle. Thomas shakes on the bed, tears falling from his eyes that are clamped shut. Minho runs his fingers through Thomas’ locks. They’re no longer sweaty, but thick with dirt and grime.

Minho holds Thomas as he cries, because he knows later on, when he’s breaking down from the pressure, Thomas will be the first one to hold him.

Thomas will always be the first one to hold him.

_**In the moment we're lost and found,** _  
_**I just wanna be by your side,** _  
_**If these wings could fly,** _  
_**For the rest of our lives.** _

_— fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of romantic Thominho. I know this sucked but it took me like ten minutes to write because I just _needed to write it!._
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :)


End file.
